


Private Relations

by violetclarity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, HP Femslash MiniFest, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, PR manager Pansy Parkinson, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Unintentional Outing, forced to work together trope, soft butch Ginny Weasley, the Holyhead Harpies are all very gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 01:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetclarity/pseuds/violetclarity
Summary: Pansy Parkinson is the Harpies’ new PR person. Ginny Weasley is not impressed. // A tale of friendship, flirtation, and fancy dress parties.





	Private Relations

**Author's Note:**

> This started as my f/f take on the tropey harry/draco thing where they have to work together and sex/eventual love ensues, but then it kept getting put off for various reasons, and all of a sudden it was November and the HP Femslash Minifest prompt was _Unusual Careers_ and I thought...why not both? So, please enjoy PR manager Pansy with a side of “enemies with benefits to lovers.”
> 
> Shout-out to the lovely **nifflers-n-nargles** for creating this fest, and many thanks the amazing **icarusinflight** for alpha-reading this for me, and the always wonderful **frnklymrshnkly** for beta-reading!
> 
> For further explanation of the "unintentional outing" tag, see the end notes.

Pansy Parkinson showed up to the Harpies’ Monday morning practice in a Muggle business suit.

She looked ridiculous, Ginny thought uncharitably, watching her pick her way across the pitch in kitten heels. It had rained all weekend and the ground was still soupy, little flecks of mud splashing onto Parkinson’s calves as she followed their head coach across the grass.

“The fuck’s Parkinson doing here?” Ginny muttered to Angelina, but before she got an answer, their coach waved them down to the ground. Ginny landed with a spray of mud that splattered across Parkinson’s dark green skirt. With an irritated flick of her wand, Parkinson Vanished it.

“Harpies,” Beatrice bellowed. She was a short, stocky woman who had been infamous during her own career as a Holyhead Beater. “As you all know, Michelle left us to move to Canada.” There was some grumbling at this – their former Public Relations manager had been much beloved. “Pansy Parkinson here is going to be her replacement.” Beatrice gestured to Pansy at her side. “I know some of you know her from your school days. I don’t care. Now,” Beatrice shifted her stance and gestured toward Valmai, who had landed closest to her. “Let’s all go around and introduce ourselves.”

They did. It felt like they were back in school on the first day of classes, which was ridiculous, and besides, wasn’t it Parkinson’s job to know who they were already? Ginny watched Parkinson as they went around the circle, and could have sworn she saw her lip curl at the word _Weasley,_ but later Angelina told her she was imagining it. After the introductions, Beatrice joined them in the air, and Parkinson retreated to the stands to watch them run drills. Ginny wished she could be more upset about Parkinson’s choice of wardrobe – it absolutely _screamed_ Slytherin – but acknowledged that she’d probably worn the color to match with the Holyhead uniforms.

“Never thought I’d see the day when we had to work with Pansy _fucking_ Parkinson,” she said to Angelina as they changed in the locker room. They had an hour for lunch before they had to be back for afternoon strength training.

Angelina shrugged. “She was a bint in school, but what are you going to do?” she said, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

Ginny rolled her eyes as Angelina walked away. Being a few years older, she’d had more of a buffer from Parkinson at Hogwarts, never having to deal with her the way Ginny had. It made sense that Angelina could shrug this off, but that didn’t mean Ginny had to be pleased by the new development.

“Problem, Weasley?” Ginny turned with a start to see Gwenog lounging against the locker beside hers. She flushed, embarrassed to have been caught whinging. Although they worked well together on the field, she still sometimes found herself intimidated by the team captain.

She swallowed down what she wanted to say about Parkinson, and smiled. “Not at all,” she said, and slammed her own locker shut as she headed to lunch.

###

“It’s the worst!” Ginny announced to the table that Saturday. It’d been a trying week of Parkinson lurking behind doors and tapping her pen on her clipboard, and they’d lost an entire afternoon of practice to a presentation about the team’s new PR protocols. “I mean, Parkinson!” She took an angry bite of toast, thankful that Harry had skipped out on their weekly brunch. Ever since he’d started seeing Malfoy, he was incapable of attending events without him, and Ginny didn’t feel like worrying she might be offending the git.

“I dunno, Gin,” Ron said, stirring sugar into his coffee. “I heard Parkinson’s good at her job. George got her help covering up the minor incendiary incident we had with that new potion at the shop.”

Ginny frowned. “You mean the one that exploded?”

“It wasn’t an explosion, it was a _minor incendiary incident,_ ” Ron corrected her. “That’s something Parkinson came up with.”

“She helped Rolf plan his book tour,” Luna added. She placed a blueberry directly onto her spoonful of oatmeal. “She knows a lot of people. Her help was very valuable.”

“But it’s _Parkinson,_ ” Ginny whinged. “Pansy Parkinson. She spent all of school following Malfoy around, insulting everyone under the sun and picking on the younger years. She wanted to give Harry to Voldemort!”

“Harry said she’s apologized for that,” Hermione reminded her. “She wrote him a letter after the war just like Draco did.”

Ginny bit back the comment she wanted to make about calling him _Draco_ now, and frowned instead. “That may be,” she said. “But I don’t think she really gets our team.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to be seeing that much of her,” Hermione pointed out. “She’s probably trying to get acquainted with everyone since she just started. I’m sure they’ll be keeping her busy behind the scenes and she’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

Ginny sighed. “You’re probably right. I hope you’re right, anyway.”

###

Hermione was not right.

If anything, over the next two weeks, Parkinson was around even more. Their first match was coming soon, and while normally this wouldn’t cause so much disruption, this year Parkinson had suggested they have a _gala_ to mark the occasion of the season starting. Beatrice and their manager, Haley, had thought it was a _fabulous_ idea, so Parkinson had spent the last fortnight flitting around, taking dimensions and measurements and quizzing all the players on their favorite dishes and favorite bands, to make it “a proper celebration of _you,_ ” she’d told them. “ _You_ are the Holyhead Harpies, and it’s up to _you_ to maintain the legacy of your team, the second-oldest in Britain!”

Everyone besides Ginny was excited. Their Keeper, Ellie, had previously agreed with Ginny that Parkinson seemed “not like a Harpies girl,” but ever since Parkinson promised to find someone who could make her favorite Nigerian dessert for the gala, she’d started calling her _mate_ and invited her out for post-practice pub night. Even Angelina had admitted that Parkinson was “vastly improved from school, although that’s not difficult.” Gwenog had declared the idea of the gala to be brilliant, and happily accepted – on behalf of everyone on the team – Pansy’s offer to have them fitted for dress robes, gowns, or suits, whatever formalwear they felt most comfortable in.

“This is terrible,” Ginny muttered, throwing her gloves to the bottom of her locker. They’d had a brutal all-day flying practice, and Ginny’d been hit in the arm with a Bludger in the morning. Her safety-spelled practice gear had absorbed most of the impact, but she could already tell there was a bruise spreading down from her shoulder. She should have gone to see the team Healer when it happened, but she’d waved it off and said she was fine, not wanting to fly down to the team offices, where Parkinson would also be working. She regretted that decision, now.

Even worse, it was a Friday, and while all her teammates had already left for the pub, Parkinson had asked Ginny to stay late. She’d insisted all of the team members get new official photographs done, both action shots and headshots. They were going to be used in promotional materials, as decoration for the ticket office and the gala, and would even be posted on the new Wizarding Website she’d created for the Harpies. Ginny’d drawn the short straw to have her photos taken on Friday.

She didn’t want to bother showering for Parkinson’s stupid photos, and settled for casting a conditioning charm at her hair – short enough now that she could style it without brushing it – and a quick _Scourgify_ over her body before she changed from her practice gear into her uniform. Although it’d been an adjustment to wear the Holyhead green after flying in red for all of her school years, she’d grown to like the color. Luna had assured her it suited her: it brought out the hazel of her eyes, and complemented rather than clashed with her hair.

When she’d changed, she picked up her broom and headed outside. Parkinson sat in the stands closest to the locker room, her ankles crossed in front of her, a large Muggle camera on her lap. Her suit today was a deep wine color, her shoes spelled to match. The blouse she wore was ivory, and dipped low in the front as she bent to smooth her skirt before coming to meet Ginny.

“I want to get some shots of you in the air before it gets dark out,” she said, and then proceeded to photograph Ginny hovering two feet off the ground in various ridiculous positions.

“Won’t you be able to tell that I’m not actually in the air if you can see the stands behind me?” Ginny asked.

“I’m going to edit the background,” Parkinson explained. She pursed her lips as she squinted through the viewfinder, and Ginny did not find it distracting. Parkinson may have had a nice mouth, but it was still attached to the rest of her person, which was the opposite of nice.

After the flying photos, Parkinson ushered Ginny into the Harpies’ office building and positioned her beside the large logo painted on the wall.

“I want you to look intimidating,” she directed. “Imagine you’re about to play the Falcons.”

Ginny scowled into the camera. Parkinson snapped a few shots, then sighed.

“Can you look less angry?”

“But I’m angry when we play the Falcons,” Ginny argued. “You told me to look intimidating.”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to scare away all the Harpies fans who want to buy tickets and come see matches!”

Ginny rolled her eyes and tried to soften her scowl.

After a few more snaps, Parkinson sighed again. “Maybe it’s the posture. You’re so rigid like that.”

Ginny was standing with her feet squared and her shoulders back, broom at her side, the way she did when they marched onto the pitch before a match. “Rigid?”

“Do you mind if I–?” Parkinson reached for Ginny’s arm as if to move it, but waited for Ginny’s nod to touch her. “Try crossing your arms,” she said, guiding Ginny into position, “but then tilt your hip out to the side.” She lightly grabbed Ginny’s hips and pressed down, forcing her right knee to bend and her hip to cant sideways.

“I know how to pop my hip,” Ginny said irritably.

“Then why aren’t you?” Parkinson asked, frustrated.

Ginny huffed. She’d spent her mistaken teenage years chasing boys; she understood how to stand in a way that showed off her – admittedly minimal – assets. But she didn’t like doing it now that she’d made peace with the fact that she’d never wanted those boys. No girl at a club had ever approached her because she’d been leaning seductively against the wall. Typically when Ginny was in clubs, she was the one doing the approaching.

The idea of such a pose being immortalized in a photo made Ginny cringe, but she didn’t want to explain all of that to _Pansy Parkinson._ “It’s a ridiculous pose,” she said instead. “Isn’t this meant to be a photograph of my face, anyway?”

“It’ll be cropped to be your face, but we need a full-body shot as well,” Parkinson explained. “If this pose is ridiculous, then can you show me what you’d do instead?”

Ginny glared and stepped out of Parkinson’s hold, straightening her hips. She leaned her shoulders against the wall, keeping her arms crossed, and crossed one leg in front of the other. She kept her focus on Parkinson’s dark brown eyes until their eye contact was broken by Parkinson raising her camera.

_Click. Click, click._

They fell into a rhythm. Parkinson gave occasional directions – turn this way; face over there – and Ginny followed them. The bright office grew more silent as the sky darkened outside; by the time Parkinson set the camera down, it was almost dusk.

“That’s great, Ginny,” Parkinson said. It might have been the first time she’d ever said Ginny’s given name, and it fell off her tongue like honey. She fiddled with the camera, removing the film and sliding it into its canister. Her nails were varnished with a pale, pale pink that wouldn’t have been noticeable if not for its shine.

“Are you coming to the pub?”Ginny didn’t know what possessed her to ask. Parkinson was startled when she looked up and met Ginny’s eyes.

“What?”

Ginny swallowed. “The pub tonight. Are you coming? I thought Ellie invited you?” She soldiered on before Parkinson had a chance to respond. “If you are, we could Floo there together. I just need to change out of this.” She gestured to her uniform.

“Oh. Alright,” Pansy said. She bit her lip, and for the first time since Ginny had seen her again, appeared to be considering her words. “I wasn’t sure I was going to go...I had dinner plans with Draco, but he hasn’t gotten back to me so he’s lost his chance.” She tossed her hair, sleek bob barely brushing her shoulder. “I’ll wait for you to change.”

Ginny shook her head. Harry’d been talking last weekend about surprising Draco with a mini-break, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d whisked him away to a different timezone. “I’ll only be a minute,” she said, and Pansy nodded.

“I’ve got to send this film off for development anyway.”

Once she got to the locker room, Ginny realized that her earlier _Scourgify_ hadn’t quite cut it. She was sweaty and gross, so she decided on a quick shower before she put her regular clothes on. She was fast, but was still standing at her locker wearing nothing but her towel when Parkinson walked into the room with the cheerful announcement that “The film’s been sent off!” She stopped abruptly, eyes going wide as they traveled down Ginny’s body. “Oh.”

Ginny flushed, aware of the fact that Parkinson could see how it spread down her neck and onto her chest. “Sorry. I showered,” she explained unnecessarily.

“I can see that.” Parkinson’s voice had gone low and heated. Ginny felt a little shivery, and it wasn’t from the exposed skin.

“Pansy?”

She’d meant to say _Parkinson,_ as she always did, but somehow that wasn’t what came out. It felt too harsh to use a surname while standing here almost naked, becoming aware of her own arousal and hoping against hope that the feeling was returned.

“Merlin, you’re gorgeous,” Pansy said, her cheeks going pink.

Ginny cleared her throat. “So are you,” she said. It was aggressively true; even back in school, when she’d hated Pansy Parkinson, Ginny hadn’t been able to deny that she was, aesthetically speaking, fucking lovely.

“Oh,” Pansy said. Her gaze was stuck on Ginny’s mouth, and she seemed caught between walking forward and backing away, so Ginny took a step forward, the edge of her towel brushing her thighs as she went. She was very aware of her own nakedness in the face of Pansy’s still impeccable suit.

“Yes,” Ginny said. “Even when you’re wearing those ridiculous blazers.”

It cut the tension. Pansy laughed, raising a hand to smooth her lapel. “You don’t like them?”

Ginny grinned. “Too posh.” She was glad for Pansy’s laughter, even as she didn’t want to do anything to temper the heat beginning to crackle between them.

“Do you think so?” Pansy’s voice was unaffected, but as she shrugged off the blazer and tossed it over the bench behind her, Ginny could see her breath starting to come faster.

“You’re still overdressed,” Ginny said. They’d both been drifting forwards, and now Pansy was less than an arm’s length away. Ginny wanted to close the distance and pull her close, to feel the press of Pansy’s silky blouse against her own bare skin.

But it was Pansy who reached out first, grabbing the twist of Ginny’s towel and _tugging._

It hit the floor and Ginny shivered as her body was exposed to the air. Her whole body warmed as Pansy took her in, and Ginny became aware that she was already getting wet, just from their flirting and the heat in Pansy’s gaze. She wondered if Pansy could smell it.

Pansy dropped to her knees and inhaled deeply, answering Ginny’s question. She watched Ginny from under heavy eyelids, her face already flushed with arousal. Ginny wanted very much to bury her fingers in Pansy’s perfectly coiffed bob and pull her face in, to feel that mouth on her throbbing clit. She curled her hands into fists.

Pansy smiled. “May I?”

“You want to–”

“Eat you out,” Pansy said, drawing one finger teasingly up the front of Ginny’s thigh. Ginny felt the familiar tingle of a Protection Charm, and was impressed that Pansy’d cast it wandlessly. “Make you come. And then for you to return the favor, as long as you want that.” She caressed Ginny’s hip, the firm grip making her blood sing. “If that’s alright with you?”

Ginny was having a hard time drawing in enough breath to think, let alone speak. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that’s– oh, _fuck._ ”

Her torso curled in and she had to reach a hand down to Pansy’s head as Pansy leaned in and began with a long lick between her folds, sweeping perfectly over her clit. She repeated the motion twice more before pulling off and licking her lips, which were already shiny.

“You can grab my hair if you want,” she told Ginny. “I’ll tell you if it hurts.” She positioned her own hands on Ginny’s arse, forcing her to tilt her hips forward a bit, and returned to her task. Her palms were smooth, the tips of her nails grazing Ginny’s skin.

Ginny groaned, widening her stance and sliding her fingers through Pansy’s hair. It was as soft as it looked, but she could hardly appreciate it, all her attention focused on Pansy’s mouth.

Pansy dragged her tongue up and around Ginny’s labia, altering her path a little bit each time until Ginny thrust into the movement, trying to get Pansy’s attention where she most wanted it. When Pansy finally did give in to Ginny’s moans and sucked her lips around Ginny’s clit, laving it over and over with her tongue, Ginny’s whole body spasmed. Pansy’s laughter vibrating through Ginny’s body made it feel even better. It was a mesmerizing sight – Pansy’s eyes half-closed in concentration, her nose resting against Ginny’s pubis, the movement of her lips and tongue hidden, but echoing throughout Ginny’s entire body.

“I’m close,” Ginny panted, surprised at the truth behind the words. It often took her awhile to climax with new partners, but Pansy was proving adept at finding all of her weak spots.

At Ginny’s words, Pansy moaned, opening her mouth wider and tracing her tongue along the centre of Ginny’s vulva. Then Pansy zeroed in on her clit, flicking it with her tongue until the sensation became to much and Ginny bucked her hips forward, her thighs spasming as she came.

“Fuck,” she swore, as Pansy slowed the movement of her tongue, Ginny’s body still quivering with aftershocks.

Pansy pulled away, lips slick and red. “Good?”

“ _Very_ good,” Ginny said, dropping to her knees and sealing their lips together. The kiss tasted like Ginny, and as she licked into Pansy’s mouth, Pansy moaned.

“Will you touch me?” Pansy asked, pulling away and licking her lips. Ginny wanted to kiss her until Pansy tasted like _Pansy_ again, but after a moment the question made its way into Ginny’s brain, and she nodded.

“Do you want my fingers?” she asked.

Pansy nodded. She leaned back onto her hands and spread her legs. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she did, and Ginny could see the wink of her knickers.

Ginny shifted so she was up on her knees, straddling one of Pansy’s legs, and placed her hands on her thighs. “Do you like them inside you?” she asked.

Pansy nodded. “Inside is good, please,” she said, canting her hips to show Ginny she was ready.

Ginny smiled. She pushed Pansy’s skirt all the way up until it bunched around her waist, then ran her thumbs over the front of her knickers. They were satiny and black, and already soaked through with the evidence of Pansy’s arousal.

“Oh fuck,” Pansy sighed. She straightened her legs and dropped to her elbows. The picture she made was absolutely debauched – clothes in disarray, hair mussed, her lips still swollen from eating Ginny.

“Do you like that?” Ginny asked. She ran her fingers over the material a few more times before pushing it to the side and coming into contact with Pansy’s skin for the first time. It was hot and slick, and they both moaned as Ginny repeated her earlier motion, up and down, watching as Pansy squeezed her eyes shut and gasped.

“Get on with it,” Pansy huffed. The color was high on her cheeks, and as much as Ginny wanted to tease her, more than that she wanted to see her come. Without any warning, she slid a finger inside, watching in awe as Pansy’s mouth fell into a little ‘O’ of surprise.

“Good?” she asked, beginning to thrust in and out.

Pansy nodded, her hips hitching. “Yes,” she said, and then, “more.” And because she hadn’t specified, Ginny slid a second finger into her body and also brought her thumb to Pansy’s clit.

Pansy groaned and threw her head back, thrusting into Ginny’s hands as much as she could in her position. Ginny leaned in to kiss along her neck.

“Another?” she whispered, and obliged at Pansy’s frantic nod.

“Yes, yes,” Pansy whispered, and Ginny could sense her body tightening as she tried to chase that peak. She pressed a little harder with her thumb, rubbing Pansy’s clit in tight circles, and bit at her collarbone. Pansy came with a groan, clenching around Ginny’s fingers as her whole body shuddered.

There was a moment of stillness as Pansy’s breath evened out, before Ginny withdrew her hand and spelled it clean. Pansy cast the same spell and shuffled her skirt down in a motion that should have been awkward but was instead endearing.

“So,” Ginny said. She was still completely naked, her towel abandoned on the floor behind them. She didn’t know if she could show up to the pub with Pansy and not have it written on her face that they’d just fucked.

Pansy used the bench to leverage herself onto her feet, before reaching a hand down to help Ginny. She accepted it, and the towel that Pansy then Summoned and handed to her.

Ginny was about to open her mouth, despite not knowing quite what she wanted to say – she didn’t even know how she felt about it all – when Pansy cut her off.

“I should probably be getting home,” she said. “The pub night is a team thing, really. I shouldn’t intrude, and I’ve had a long week anyway.”

It was obvious that Pansy also didn’t know how to hide what they’d done from the other women. “No,” Ginny said, “you should go. I’ll Floo Angelina tomorrow and tell her that I was too fed up with you after the photoshoot to see you any longer.” Ginny flushed. “I mean–”

Pansy, thankfully, cut her off. “It’s fine,” she said. “I really am tired. You have a good time.”

With a smile, she turned, leaving Ginny alone in the locker room and in need of another shower.

_Well, that’s a new development,_ Ginny thought to herself.

###

The following Friday, Pansy did join them at the pub.

Ginny hadn’t been alone with Pansy all week. Aside from a few times when Ginny caught Pansy’s eyes on her, warm and raw, there had been no indication from Pansy that she even remembered.

Ginny remembered. She’d remembered in the shower Saturday morning, getting herself off and imagining it was Pansy’s tongue instead of her fingers. She’d remembered on Monday night, when Luna had asked her what was new because _you seem lighter,_ and she’d thought about telling her friend before she shook her head and said nothing had changed. She’d remembered on Thursday, when it had been hot as Hades and Pansy had shed her blazer while watching them from the stands, exposing the curve of her neck and shoulder.

After a quick trip to her apartment, Ginny had Flooed to the pub. She’d been sandwiched between Angelina and Valmai for most of the night, while Pansy had been at the other table, talking with Ellie and Cho. Ginny hadn’t been able to keep herself from staring as the night wore on – even in the dim light of the pub, Pansy was stunning. She’d changed from her work suit into skinny jeans and a sleeveless black top, and Ginny was a little embarrassed that she found Pansy’s collarbones arousing.

It was just – she was attractive, alright? More than. And even if Ginny knew how Pansy looked when she came, she’d never seen so much of her skin on display. She wanted to kiss down her neck and trace her collarbone where it was exposed by her swooping neckline.

Pansy nursed a martini, twirling the stem of the glass between her fingers, and Ginny had just noticed that her nail varnish was red this week when Angelina’s elbow caught her between the ribs and she gasped.

“What the fuck?” Ginny asked, rubbing her side.

Angelina frowned. “I should be asking you the same thing.” She jerked her chin towards Pansy. “Why are you staring at Pansy?”

“I wasn’t staring at Pansy,” Ginny said, but she was blushing, and from the glee in her eyes, Angelina had noticed.

“You were definitely staring,” Angelina said. She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Do you like her?”

“No,” Ginny said, aware that it sounded like a lie, and when Angelina raised her eyebrows in obvious disbelief, she sighed. “It’s– well...the thing is–”

“Weasley.”

Pansy called her name from the other side of the table. Pansy’s martini glass was now empty, and she held it around the rim, letting it dangle from her fingertips. She’d gotten not only Ginny and Angelina’s attention, but Valmai and Gwenog’s as well; Cho, Ellie, and Maria were watching from the other table.

Pansy licked her lips, and held her glass out towards Ginny. “Get me another martini?”

There was no mistaking her meaning, and Ginny knew that if she did as Pansy bid her, she’d wouldn’t hear the end of it from her teammates for weeks.

She stood and ignored their hoots and hollers as she made her way to the bar, choosing instead to focus on the way Pansy had smiled at her when she grabbed the glass out of her hand – cocky and confident, but with a hint of relief in her eyes that made Ginny realize something: Pansy hadn’t been sure she was going to take the bait. It had been a test for Ginny, but one in which the outcome wasn’t certain – a decidedly un-Slytherin move on Pansy’s part.

###

Ever since the night of the martini incident, after which Pansy and Ginny had left together, gone to Ginny’s flat, and fucked on her sofa, they’d fallen into something of a routine. Even though everyone on the team knew something was going on, Pansy still treated Ginny with the same brisk demeanor as she did everyone else, and despite the fact that they’d left pub night together a few times since then, none of Ginny’s teammates had given her a hard time – well, not _too_ hard a time.

When Ginny’d asked Angelina about it, she’d shrugged. “Valmai and Beatrice used to be a thing,” she said. “But we’re all professionals, yeah? As long as you don’t let it interfere with the game, no one really minds.”

Ginny wasn’t going to argue with that. Although she’d never been opposed to casual sex, she often didn’t have the time or energy to go out on the pull, especially during the demanding Quidditch season. There was nothing more disappointing than dragging herself out to a bar after a night of practice only to come home alone. Besides, even if she didn’t mind sex with strangers – it could, on occasion, be extraordinarily hot – it had its limitations. One-night stands didn’t allow much time to get comfortable with your partner, and they often ended up rushed – there usually wasn’t a bed or a strap-on available, for instance, which meant Ginny hadn’t fucked anyone like that since her last girlfriend.

Pansy erased those memories quickly, though. She was naked and riding Ginny, her hair messy from their sex, sweat on her temples – a far cry from her sleek, streamlined appearance during the day. Her breasts bounced lightly as she moved, thighs clenching and stomach quivering as she raised and lowered herself onto the dildo. Every time she ground down, the movement resonated through the toy and onto Ginny’s clit – thank Merlin for magic, Ginny thought, as Pansy adjusted her position and suddenly everything was _more_ – and the sensation was almost as hot as the little noises Pansy made as they fucked.

“Harder,” she gasped, and Ginny planted her feet on the bed, rocking up to meet Pansy. She had her hands on Pansy’s hips, enjoying the softness of her skin and the fullness of her body, the way her weight shifted as she leaned forward onto her knees, forcing Ginny to work harder to meet her, her breasts hanging down and brushing against Ginny’s.

“Close,” Pansy said, her hands clenching in the sheets beside Ginny’s head, and then, moaning, “touch me.” They’d done this enough times now that Ginny knew what Pansy needed to push her over the edge. She let go of one of Pansy’s hips and brushed her fingers over her clit, stroking it gently, pressing harder when Pansy nodded, frantic.

“That’s it, yes, yes – oh!” She shouted, dropping down to her elbows and pressing her forehead to Ginny’s as she came, clenching around the dildo. The echo of her movements made Ginny shudder, but she knew from experience that it wouldn’t be enough to put her over the edge.

Pansy lifted off the toy let her body slump onto Ginny’s, pressing their chests together. She pushed Ginny’s hair out of her face and smiled down at her.

“You didn’t come yet.”

“No,” Ginny said, running her thumbs along Pansy’s sides.

“Would you like to?”

Ginny thought about it. She was pleasantly aroused, though she’d known she wasn’t going to come from the strap-on alone, and Pansy was obviously willing to do something for her if she’d wanted it. But with Pansy on top of her now, satisfied and sleep-heavy, Ginny became aware of her own exhaustion. It had been a brutal practice followed by several hours of socializing – Maria’s birthday – and it was two and a half weeks until their first match, a fact that caused her some stress, even though it was her sixth year on the team. It might take her a while to come tonight, and really, she was ready to go to sleep.

“That’s alright,” she said, wrapping her arms around Pansy’s waist so she’d know it wasn’t a rejection. “That was a lot of fun, but I’m feeling pretty tired now, actually.”

Pansy observed her for a moment and then shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, snuggling down and then frowning when Ginny tipped her onto her side.

“I still have to take this thing off,” she explained, doing that, and then cast a few cleaning charms over both of them as well. Pansy watched her as she grabbed a glass off her dresser and filled it with water.

“You don’t mind if I stay the night, do you?”

Ginny turned to her in surprise. Pansy hadn’t spent the night before – unless you counted the time they hadn’t finished til the early hours of the morning, which Ginny didn’t, because Pansy had still gone straight home then. It felt like a choice, and something they should maybe talk about, but at that moment Pansy looked so comfortable, curled in Ginny’s sheets, and Ginny remembered a martini glass being offered to her, and she smiled.

“That’s fine,” she said. “Do you want any water?”

###

Although Ginny’s teammates knew about her...whatever-it-was with Pansy, she hadn’t said anything about it to her friends outside of the Harpies. She wasn’t ready to explain herself, especially to Hermione and Ron, who could never let anything about Ginny’s love life go unexamined. She didn’t have answers for any of the questions she new they’d ask. Furthermore, ever since Harry had started dating Draco, he was useless at keeping secrets, and as Pansy hadn’t said anything about telling anyone outside the team, Ginny wasn’t willing to risk her trust in, if Harry couldn’t keep the information from Draco.

It certainly made for some awkward lines of questioning, though, Ginny reflected at Saturday brunch. She’d shown up to the restaurant late after waking in bed with Pansy. Lazy good morning kisses had turned into Pansy begging Ginny to fuck her again, then eating Ginny out before Pansy grabbed her clothes and tumbled into the Floo, legs still wobbly from her orgasm. Even after a shower, Ginny was sure everyone could tell she’d been having sex less than an hour ago – she didn’t smell, did she? No, she was being paranoid.

Aside from a sly smile from Luna when Ginny sat down next to her, no one did anything out of the ordinary. Harry was there this week, without Draco. Neville was still out of town doing research. Ron finished a story about the joke shop that Ginny had already heard from their mum, then turned to her with a smile.

“Ginny! That reminds me. How’s working with Parkinson?”

“Fine. Good. I mean, she’s– less terrible than I had anticipated.” She coughed. “You all were right, I guess.”

Hermione smiled, only a little bit smug. “She’s doing a good job, then?”

Ginny nodded – even if she hadn’t been fucking Pansy, she would have been been mad not to admit that she was a PR genius. “Yeah, she’s definitely good at her job. She’s made us one of those new Wizarding Websites – super snazzy. And Bea’s said that ticket sales for our first three matches are way above where they were this time last year.” She rolled her eyes. “If only it weren’t for that stupid gala.”

“What gala?” Harry asked.

“One of her new ideas – we’re throwing a gala to celebrate the first match of the year. It’s supposed to make the sponsors happy and get the fans excited for the new season, and all that. I hate fancy parties,” Ginny said. “But Pansy’s given us each a table’s worth of invites, so you’re all welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“Is it Pansy now?” Luna asked. “You used to call her Parkinson.”

Ginny flushed. “Just seemed a bit immature to hold onto school rivalries, is all,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “Anyway, gala. You lot should come. Make it less miserable, et cetera, et cetera.”

Harry frowned. “Is it the weekend before the first match? I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

“I’d love to come, Ginny,” Luna said with a smile.

“Do I have to wear dress robes?” Ron asked, then winced as Hermione elbowed him.

“We’re going regardless of the dress code,” Hermione told him, then looked towards Ginny. “But– er– is it formal, then?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Ginny grumbled. “Pansy’s making us all get new fancy clothes for it, so if I have to be uncomfortable, you can be too.”

“Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?” Hermione said. “I always love robe fittings. That ought to be fun.”

Ginny grimaced. “Hopefully.”

###

As it turned out, Ginny’s final robe fitting was the exact opposite of fun. A more apt description might have been miserable.

Although Pansy had trusted all of the players to go to their initial measuring and consulting appointments on their own – at the times she’d arranged, and at the tailor she’d selected, but at least still _alone_ – their outfits still had to get her stamp of approval, so she would be going to all of their final fittings.

“Images from this event are going to be circulating for the rest of the year,” she’d warned them at the one-week-out briefing meeting they’d had first thing Monday morning. “So I need to see what all of you will be wearing, and make sure you look cohesive as a team.” Ginny’s appointment was on Wednesday afternoon, and she hadn’t said anything about how their time could be better spent practicing before the season started, rather than going shopping.

Wednesday found Ginny in the cramped dressing room at Pansy’s tailor’s, climbing into a suit which was still too tight in the arms, despite the two previous fittings she’d attended. The color was wonderful – a green so dark it was almost black – and the cut toed the perfect line between classic and overly masculine, but the sleeves were still constricting around her biceps, making Ginny frown at her reflection.

Pansy didn’t even look when Ginny walked into the shop. “I still haven’t gotten your list of guests,” she said, eyes on her clipboard. “I need names so I can provide a list to– oh.” Pansy’s cheeks had gone a bit pink as she raked her eyes over Ginny’s body, and Ginny couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. She knew she looked good, but outside approval – especially from Pansy – was always gratifying.

“Well, you certainly look nice.” Pansy coughed, pulling her quill out from behind her ear. “Your list?” she repeated. “Do you happen to know off the top of your head who’s going to be coming?”

“Um, my mum and dad, and Bill and Fleur.” George and Percy would, by prior arrangement, be seated at Angelina’s table. “Ron, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood.” She rolled her eyes. “Harry can’t make it, the plonker.”

Pansy finished copying down the list and quirked a smile at her. “Friends can be the worst sometimes,” she confessed, and despite everything they’d done together, the words felt newly intimate. “Draco’s told me he can’t make it either.”

“Well, that figures,” Ginny said, huffing out a breath. “They’re probably going away together again. Disgusting, really.”

It was only after she stopped speaking that she realized Pansy had gone very still, the tip of her quill hovering above her parchment.

“What?” Pansy asked. Her voice was very thin. She licked her lips, setting her clipboard down with shaking hands. “Why would Potter and Draco be going away together?”

Ginny had the horrible sinking feeling of having said something wrong. She should have stopped talking, but her next words came out automatically. “Because they’re dating,” she said. “Have been for a while?”

The flush that had graced Pansy’s cheeks when she first saw Ginny in her suit was gone. Her face was pale and her eyes stricken. She picked up her clipboard. Put it down. Folded her hands in her lap.

“Oh,” she said. “You don’t say.”

“Fuck,” Ginny said. “I didn’t realize you didn’t– I mean, I assumed Draco had said...all of our friends know, I thought if it were a secret–”

“It’s fine.” Pansy’s voice was sharp, cutting, but it was clear she was trying not to cry. Then, in a quieter voice, perhaps not even meant for Ginny to hear. “I’m sure he meant to tell me. We’ve both been so busy lately – the new job, and all that...I haven’t seen him in awhile anyway.” Scowling. “Now I guess I know why.”

Ginny’d thought that Pansy might come back to hers after the fitting, since she didn’t have to return to practice, and they could get takeaway and eat it in bed and fuck, not necessarily in that order. But when Ginny emerged from the fitting room in her regular clothes again, Pansy was already gone.

###

She tried to talk herself out of doing it, but in the end, Ginny’s well-honed sense of right and wrong was written into her DNA, as a Gryffindor and a Weasley. She only lasted a few hours before she called Harry.

“Ginny!” He was surprised to see her, but smiled wide nonetheless. “You don’t usually call.”

It was true – Ginny preferred sending an owl or stopping by, but in this case time was of the essence.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said. “I need you to give me Mal– Draco’s Floo address. Unless he’s there now, in which case can you grab him for me?”

Harry frowned. “He’s not over tonight...why do you need his Floo address?”

She shook her head. “It’s– sort of a long explanation, I may have done something foolish and I need to talk to him about it.” When Harry continued to stare at her, she sighed. “As if he’s not going to tell you exactly what I did the second you ask; just get the news from him later – it’s not my place to tell.”

“Alright,” Harry relented, and told her the address. As soon as their call ended, she threw another handful of powder into the flames, before she could lose her nerve.

Malfoy’s green-tinted face was confused as he knelt in front of his fireplace. “Ginevra? Why is your head in my fireplace?” His eyes went wide. “Did something happen to Harry?”

“Nothing happened,” she said. “Harry is fine. I needed to talk to you because I– I did something stupid, and I need to tell you about it, and also apologize.”

Malfoy’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“You know that Pansy is working for the Harpies now,” Ginny said. “We were talking about the gala, and I said that Harry wasn’t going to be able to come, and she said that you weren’t either, and I...I told her you and Harry are together,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t realize that she didn’t know until I’d already said too much, and I’m _so_ sorry, because I know that’s not the kind of thing that it’s okay to share without permission, but I assumed she already knew. I’m sorry,” she said, again, because the dull look that had come over Malfoy’s face made her stomach twist with guilt. “I really am, Malfoy.”

“It’s– it’s not your fault,” Malfoy said. “You didn’t know that Pansy doesn’t...it’s an easy mistake to make.” He pushed his hair off of his face, a gesture Ginny recognized from Harry. “It’s my own fault for not...not telling her sooner.”

Ginny frowned. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “I can talk to her, try to smooth things over, maybe…”

Malfoy shook his head. “I doubt it will help my case at all if I send Ginny Weasley to try and talk to her about it instead of confronting it myself,” he said. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Ginny said. After all, Malfoy didn’t know about her and Pansy either. No one outside of the team did.

###

Pansy’s bad mood over the following two days was obvious, and more than that, it was obvious that it wasn’t only because the gala was that Sunday. She’d been stressed about the gala before – but stressed about the gala Pansy still joked around, and on the rare occasions she snapped at someone, she apologized right away. In this mood, Pansy spent all of Thursday morning holed up in her office, and was overheard telling the caterer that she didn’t give a fuck what style brooms were on the fairy cake toppers – not the words of someone who knew they all flew Nimbus X brooms, because they were sponsored by the Nimbus Corporation.

Angelina and Ellie accosted Ginny on her way to lunch, grabbing her arms and dragging her into the empty locker room.

“What the fuck happened between you two?!” Angelina asked, hands on her hips. “And why the fuck couldn’t you wait until _after_ the very important event she’s planning to piss her off?”

“Why are you assuming it was me that did something?” Ginny said, indignant, but in the face of their unamused stares, she wilted. “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “It was an accident.”

“Well, have you apologized?” Ellie asked. “Because the gala is in three days, and when I went in to her office this morning to confirm the time for my fitting, she was sitting there staring at the fireplace.”

Ginny winced. That didn’t sound good. “It’s really not an apology sort of situation,” she said, “but I’m going to fix it! I am. I swear.”

Her teammates let her go after she swore, again, to solve what she’d fucked up – “Fix Parkinson. It’s weird,” had been how Ellie put it – before Sunday night. The only problem was that Ginny didn’t quite know how to do that.

###

The note had been simple, and left only because Pansy was already gone when Ginny stopped by her office after lunch. She hadn’t been sure if Pansy would see it, but she must have, because just before seven she Flooed into Ginny’s living room, her mouth dropping open at the spread of food on the coffee table.

Ginny followed her eyes and grimaced. She’d gone to four different restaurants for takeaway, and it was possible she had gone a little bit overboard. “I didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I got a little bit of everything?”

Pansy smiled and kissed her.

Only once they were settled in on the sofa, Pansy having shed her suit in favor of an old Harpies tracksuit of Ginny’s, her plate loaded with a slice of pizza, egg rolls, and samosas, did Ginny broach the topic.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” Ginny said, dragging a chip through a pile of ketchup. “I didn’t– I shouldn’t have said anything, but I assumed you knew.”

Pansy shook her head. “It’s not your fault my best friend never told me he’s gay,” she said, voice bitter. She frowned down at her plate, took a bite of an eggroll. “Or bi. Into men,” she said, waving the roll for emphasis. “I mean, I suspected, I guess? But he never told me. Not even when I sobbed my eyes out coming out to him.”

Ginny pressed her toes into Pansy’s thigh, a gesture of support from the other side of the sofa. She took a bite of her pad see ew, waiting to see if Pansy had anything else to say.

“It’s not even that,” Pansy said. “I mean, it doesn’t make me feel great, but I’ve been there, you know? I get that it’s hard. I wouldn’t be so upset if he hadn’t been such a shit friend otherwise, lately.” She wrinkled her nose. “Since he started seeing Potter. I guess that’s why. Cancelling on me for dinner, not replying to my owls.” She wiped her fingertips on her napkin. “I was really nervous about starting this job, you know.” She glanced up at Ginny. “I knew that most of the team would probably dislike me, and it was my first time working in such an official capacity, not just freelancing. And Draco knew I was worried about that, but we’ve barely talked since I started. I thought at least he’d come to the gala – he knows how important it is to me – but I guess not.”

“I’m sorry, Pansy,” Ginny said.

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s not that surprising – people grow apart, and all that rot. Maybe it makes it better that he’s been ignoring me because of a new relationship, but then I remember that there’s this huge thing happening in his life he didn’t want to tell me about.”

They ate their way through as much as they could of the food Ginny had bought before packing it away and getting ready for bed. When Pansy rolled over and pressed against her, sneaking a hand up her shirt as soon as Ginny lay down, she stopped her.

“I didn’t invite you over for sex,” she said, frowning. It was the first time they’d hung out without the pretense of fucking, but she’d hoped that had been obvious.

“I know,” Pansy said. “But I want to, if you do.”

Ginny let go of Pansy’s wrist. “Alright.”

It was sleepy, slow, the lights in the room dim and the covers over their bodies, keeping them warm, close. Pansy slid her hand up and played with Ginny’s breasts until she was wet just from that, from quick fingers that pinched and rubbed, teasing her until her nipples were tight peaks and she was squeezing her thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction. Only then did Pansy trail her fingers down, down over Ginny’s stomach and below the waistband of the loose pyjama shorts she slept in, finding her sticky and ready. The first touch of Pansy’s cool fingers made Ginny jolt, but Pansy was beside her, lips against Ginny’s shoulder as she watched the movement of her hand, barely visible beneath the sheets and blankets. Ginny’s clit was already swollen, sensitive, and it didn’t take long before she came, grinding against Pansy’s hand and gasping her name.

They lay there for a long moment, unmoving, Pansy’s hand over Ginny’s groin a soft comfort, before Pansy withdrew her fingers and licked them, and a spark of desire rose in Ginny. She reversed their positions, rolling Pansy onto her back and kissing down her stomach until Ginny disappeared beneath the covers. Pansy moaned, bent her legs, the covers a tent across her knees. Ginny couldn’t see Pansy’s face, but she could hear her fast breaths, smell her arousal, feel the quiver in her thighs when she pushed her knickers to the side and applied her mouth. Pansy loved having Ginny’s tongue inside her, so that’s what Ginny did, spending only a moment licking and sucking at her lips before she firmed her tongue and pressed it in, pleased when Pansy bucked and groaned. Her hand found Ginny’s hair – not pulling, just stroking – as Ginny used her free thumb to make insubstantial passes over Pansy’s clit while she fucked her with her tongue.

Ginny enjoyed doing this, but the darkness and the close space made everything _more_ – the sharp tang of Pansy’s wetness, the smell of sweat and sex – and she was glad when Pansy came quickly.

“Ginny, Ginny, fuck– _fuck,_ ” she groaned, long and drawn out, and Ginny kept going because she knew she could make Pansy feel more. “Fuck, fu– ahh! Oh! There!” A few more high, breathy moans, and Pansy pushed against Ginny’s head. “That’s– that’s good. Stop.”

When Ginny emerged from under the covers, Pansy’s cheeks were flushed and her hair was a mess. She threw one arm above her head and grinned at Ginny.

“You’re very good at that.”

Ginny blushed. “Thanks.” She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and cast cleaning and freshening charms over both of them. “Do you need anything before we go to sleep?”

“A glass of water?”

Ginny fetched it while Pansy went to brush her teeth, and by the time Ginny was done her own bedtime routine, Pansy was under the blankets, head propped on one arm as she watched Ginny. It felt normal, sliding in beside Pansy and fitting their bodies together, even though they’d only spent the night together a couple of times.

“Thank you, for this,” Pansy said, her voice loud in the darkness. “For listening, and for trying to make me feel better.”

“Trying?” Ginny asked, half teasing, half assessing.

“For making me feel better,” Pansy admitted. “It’s just – Draco and I have been friends such a long time, and it hurts to think that might be ending. I know growing apart is a part of growing up, but I didn’t think that would happen to us.”

###

The next morning, Pansy Flooed to her flat before breakfast to shower and change, and Ginny rushed through her shower and threw on practice clothes before she Apparated to Harry’s flat.

He answered the door in pajama bottoms and a work shirt, looking very confused to see her.

“Ginny – what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“No one’s hurt or anything like that,” she said, pushing past him and into his living room. “Why does everyone assume that if I’m coming to talk to them, someone must be gravely ill? It’s insulting.”

Harry folded his arms. “Well, Gin, I would assume this was a friendly visit, but you don’t usually pop by for a cuppa at seven-thirty in the morning. What is this about?”

“The fact of the matter is, Harry, you’ve been a pretty shit friend since you started dating Draco. You ditch our plans to spend time with him, or bring him along whenever we do something, and it took you three days to reply to my owl asking if you still had my tie with the enchanted Snitches.” She held up a hand to stop his protests. “It doesn’t really matter to _me_ ,” she said. “I know once you guys are past the honeymoon stage things will go back to normal, and more importantly, I have other friends I can turn to when you’re being a wanker. Pansy _doesn’t_. Pansy’s got Draco, and Draco’s been a shit friend too. Not only not telling her about the two of you – she was really nervous starting this job, and apparently they’ve barely even spoken since it started.”

She sighed, folding her arms to match Harry’s stance. “Which is why I need you to get him to the Harpies gala on Sunday.”

Harry frowned. “But Ginny–”

“No buts. I know you were going to take him on a trip, and I don’t care. Reschedule it. You’ve been out of town every other weekend – this is important to Pansy, and Draco ought to be there for it.”

“I’m not arguing, Ginny, but Draco doesn’t want everyone to know about us yet, and if we show up at that gala together, they definitely will. And won’t it throw Pansy off if she sees Draco while she’s mad at him?”

“I’ll handle all of that,” Ginny promised. “I’ll make sure you’re seated separately so no one knows you’re there together, and if you arrive after seven there won’t be anyone around to see you come in together. I’ll owl you the tickets, and meet you at the door – just get him there, alright?”

“I will.”

###

Friday’s practice was fast but not hard – Beatrice didn’t want to risk anyone injuring themselves before the gala (and, of course, the season opener), but the players were all buzzing with nervous energy, ready to put their summer preparation to the test against other teams. By unspoken agreement, Pansy left the Harpies’ complex and came to Ginny’s flat, where they ate the leftovers from the previous night before falling asleep. Saturday was spent in a flurry of activity, Ginny tagging along with Pansy to the venue, where she was promptly put to work hanging fairy lights and putting together centrepieces. After a long day of event preparation, Pansy took her to a nice Muggle restaurant where they fucked in the loo, then sent Ginny home because she couldn’t be distracted the day of.

As Ginny climbed into bed that night – her familiar, comfortable bed, which felt rather colder and emptier than it usually did – it occurred to her that at some point along the line, she had begun dating Pansy Parkinson.

She should probably tell her friends about that at some point.

Sunday she slept in and stayed in her pyjamas until it was time to pack her clothes and Apparate to the venue. Pansy had arranged for all of the team members to be styled professionally beforehand, and when Ginny walked in the room Cho was having her nails painted while Angelina was getting her hair styled.

“Is no one else here yet?” Ginny asked, hanging up the garment bag containing her suit and dropping her bag on an empty chair.

“Just us,” Cho said, turning to her. “You certainly look well rested, Ginny.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Cho giggled. “But I would have expected Pansy to keep you up half the night preparing.”

Angelina tried to cover a laugh. “Or doing something else.”

“I helped with the set-up some yesterday,” Ginny admitted, taking out her shoes and trying not to think about what they’d done after the preparation. She knew she was blushing when the others continued to laugh at her.

“Whatever you say,” Cho said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Seriously, Gin, what is going on with you and Pansy?” The hairdresser had rotated Angelina so she was now staring right at Ginny. “It seems like you’re spending a lot of time together lately.”

“What happened to all the complaining about Parkinson?” Cho chimed in.

Ginny was saved from having to explain – and good thing, too, as she didn’t fancy admitting to her teammates that the first time they’d fucked had been in the shared locker room – by another witch appearing from a door at the back of the room.

“Do you want your hair styled for the event, Ms Weasley?” she asked, and before she knew it, the rest of the team had arrived, and the room had descended into utter chaos.

Once done, Ginny’s hair looked great, and her suit fit perfectly. Pansy, despite the manic motivation in her eyes, couldn’t resist stealing a kiss when she saw her. An hour into the event, the team had been introduced and photographed and the guests were mingling, sipping champagne and nibbling canapés as they waited for dinner to be served. Ginny slipped away to the entrance right before Harry and Draco popped into sight.

They were both dressed to the nines but tense, although Harry’s shoulders dropped when he spotted her.

“Ginny!” Harry lead the way across the entrance hall. He spoke under his breath. “I’ve gotten him here, now what’s your master plan?”

“Malfoy, you’re going to wait here for Pansy,” Ginny said. “I think you both have some stuff to talk about, and I don’t want seeing you to throw Pansy off guard. Harry, you’re going to come in with me.” She cast a quick _Tempus._ “Dinner won’t be served for another twenty minutes. Plenty of time for Malfoy and Pansy to talk and then eat, and no one will realize you two arrived together.” She crossed her arms. “Does my plan meet with your approval?”

To her surprise, it was Malfoy who responded. “Very well thought out, for a Gryffindor.”

That made Harry laugh. Ginny shot him a strange look before grabbing his arm. “We’re going to go socialize. Malfoy, I’ll send Pansy out in a minute.”

Pansy looked Harry over when Ginny approached her and told her there was a problem that needed tending to in the entrance hall, but she went easily – even if she thought Ginny was messing with her, she wasn’t willing to risk anything going wrong at the gala.

Ginny dragged Harry into a conversation with a few of her teammates until the bell rang, signaling that dinner would soon be served. In the rustle of everyone finding their seats, Ginny didn’t see Pansy and Malfoy return, but there Pansy was on the podium, preparing to introduce the owner of the team before everyone began to eat. When she was done speaking, she caught Ginny’s eye from the side of the stage.

_Thank you,_ she mouthed.

###

Dinner was delicious, and after the plates were cleared Ginny dragged Harry onto the dance floor.

“If you don’t want anyone to know you’re here with Malfoy, you should probably stop staring at him,” she said, gently treading on Harry’s foot.

He winced and glared down at her. “What was that for?”

“You’re being really obvious,” she said, spinning them so Malfoy was out of Harry’s sight line. “Dance with me.”

Harry twirled her out, then back in. “It was good of you to do this,” he said. “Sometimes we need a kick in the arse, and I know Draco was glad to be here. He didn’t realize how upset Pansy was when he said he couldn’t go.”

“You know I’ll always be happy to kick you in the arse,” Ginny laughed. “I’m glad you came. Both of you.”

Harry nodded. The song switched and he tilted his head towards their table, asking if she wanted to sit, but Ginny shook her head.

“You can put up with me for one more dance, can’t you?”

Harry laughed. “So. You and Pansy.”

Ginny groaned, dropping her head against his shoulder. “Do we have to have this conversation?”

Harry shook her off. “Yes, we do. What’s going on with you and her?”

“I don’t really know,” Ginny admitted. “I thought we were just fucking, but…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Harry said, then smiled at someone over her shoulder.

Pansy had one hand on her hip. “May I cut in?”

“Of course.” Harry grinned as he walked away, and Ginny found her arms full of Pansy Parkinson.

To her surprise, Pansy didn’t start dancing right away, but hugged Ginny instead, squeezing her tightly. Ginny breathed in the smell of her shampoo as she returned the embrace.

“Pansy?”

“Thank you,” she said. “I mean it – thank you. Merlin knows that I’m so stubborn I never would have told him I was upset, and I really wasn’t ready to lose my best friend.”

She pulled back and took one of Ginny’s hands, beginning to lead her in a simple waltz.

“It was nothing,” Ginny said, face flaming. “I didn’t like seeing you upset. You would have done the same thing for me.”

“That’s true,” Pansy whispered. The room was full of people, but they were in a moment outside of time, Pansy’s dark eyes locked to Ginny’s own. It felt significant, Pansy’s little smile, the way she pulled Ginny in a little closer, her palm gentle against her back. “I would have.”

“So you don’t have to thank me,” Ginny said. “It’s...what we do.”

The words felt full of possibility, like the view over a bridge, and Pansy smiled, her body relaxing infinitesimally against Ginny’s.

“Yes. That’s what we do.”

Pansy skillfully switched the lead and rubbed her thumb along the edge of Ginny’s collar. “Are you coming over tonight after this is done?”

Ginny smiled. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unintentional Outing tag explanation (contains spoilers): Ginny knows Harry and Draco are dating, and mentions it to Pansy, assuming she also knows, but she doesn't. Ginny then explains what happened to Draco and apologizes, and arranges for Pansy and Draco to talk about it as well.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Find me on tumblr  @violetclarity. 


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